


Ophelia's Thoughts

by QueenofAlamoBeerandPropane



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types, Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sex, fucking under a willow, mentions of magic, the life ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofAlamoBeerandPropane/pseuds/QueenofAlamoBeerandPropane
Summary: A quick look into Ophelia's thoughts as she deals with the loss of her mother and the advances of Hamlet.





	Ophelia's Thoughts

Her first time with the Prince of Denmark was in the middle of the night, early spring, and underneath a willow tree situated near a brook. It was exactly two months since her mother died and she was still lonely. Her brother had fled to France and her father decided to go deep into the royal intrigue to try and carve himself a better place.

  
  


_ Or a new wife,  _ she thought bitterly as Hamlet slowly undid her corset and layers of undergarments beneath that. It seemed he was the only one who really cared for her about this sudden death. He didn’t comment about how dumb she was for just crying and crying and not being able to move on.  _ But he didn’t know about the thoughts,  _ her mind adds once again as he stops one last time to check to see if anyone was looking for them.

  
  


“You are more beautiful than Selene as she kisses Endymion on the moor,” His words come out hushed and breathy. And for a moment she feels special, she feels ethereal, maidenly. But when the cold night air hits her private parts her thoughts return to reality.

 

_ I’m going to go to hell now anyway. So why not roll into the brook. It would be so quick and painless mother would stop shaking her head at me. No… he’ll pull me out. Has to be the hero of the play, the revenge seeker, the… rebel I guess. _

 

“Aye, the sun must never look upon you for if he does a madness will overtake him, and he will ride upon his chariot and take you from our nation. The Lady of Denmark would be distraught.” He slides his member in slowly, with care.

 

This made her think of Claudius. He seemed to be the only other person who cared about her mother.  _ He probably fucked her too, like how his nephew is doing right now to you,  _ He hugged her tightly and let her weep, whispering soft words that should be reserved for a father comforting his grieving child. Then they’d talk, about this and that, flowers and their meanings. How the state of Denmark is (Claudius would always say something about how he’d run it better than the two Hamlets could). 

 

“Oh!” She gasps as his cock rubs against her g-spot, she shifts and grasps onto one of the roots and squeezes tight. Did her mother ever feel this when her father took her? Did Hamlet’s mother felt this?

  
  


_ No, they were too pure, unlike you dearest. Cast yourself in the creek! Let this be a final baptism and let all of Denmark know: Ophelia, Hamlet's whore. _

  
  


“Flesh so supple and pure, it may melt upon my touch.” Hamlet breaths out after a few moments. This made her feel so special. So wanted. These sweet lyrics whispered only to her and the willow.

  
  


_ For all you know he could do this to a thousand other whores. _

 

Her mother once said if she ever died and Ophelia couldn’t see her corpse then she was not really dead. Her mother always told her that as they set next to the fire in the eve. She’d then talk about how there was some magic running through the females of her family, and that if the one they love most does not see their swollen rigid corpse then they can live once more. She’d then say that she loved her gentle Ophelia most.

 

Ophelia never saw her mother’s body. She’d died while visiting her aging grandfather, miles away from Elsinore, and she was buried there with her mother. 

 

Hamlet’s thrusts start to increase pace and harshness as he grabs a branch to steady himself. His snow white body almost glowing in the moonlight. His dark eyes burning with the intensity of Achilles as he took Patroclus before dying in Troy.  Her hands mindlessly go to her breasts as she starts to rub them and pinch the nipples, sending little tingles of pleasure throughout her body.

  
  


“Do you think that my mother could still walk this Earth?” Her voice finally rises after his spew settled amongst the flowers. Her mother always wanted to be a midwife and a wise woman. To grow plants and herbs and cure those riddled with poison and other ailments. Perhaps she had left to start and mayhaps she will come and get Ophelia. 

 

“Do not forever with thy vailèd lids Seek for thy noble mother in the dust. Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.” Hamlet said with a calm voice with a kind smile that could hurt her if she was in the wrong mood. He pats her on the head with a gentle palm before helping her redress. 

 

She loved him, dearly. And if she were to throw herself into the brook then perhaps he will never see. Then she can fade away too, and go to her mother. And then she’d laugh and laugh and laugh about how her mother fooled her into thinking she was dead.

 

_ But life is a tragedy and not a comedy Ophelia, you know that better than anyone. _

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! If you liked it and want to see more.... I may write a little sequel to this.


End file.
